Géborand Reprimanded
by Ember Nickel
Summary: The saintly Baptistine Myriel, in a less-than-saintly moment. (Tag to 1.1.4.)


One will recall that Mademoiselle Baptistine was a kindly creature, full of patience and charity towards her fellows. Yet let this not be mistaken for infinite tolerance; she had the potential to be sharp indeed towards those who would take advantage of her brother's graciousness. For the sake of Monseigneur Bienvenu's good name, however, she forbore more often than not.

It befell one summer day, however, when the air was humid and many citizens were in ill temper, that Mademoiselle Baptistine came upon the formerly tight-fisted M. Géborand in his weekly habit of donating a sou to the needy outside the cathedral. "Hmph!" she scoffed to herself. "Well he might, for all the good that might do him!"

The women had dispersed to resume their partitioning of the meager coin, a ritual which amounted to each of them taking turns to receive the benefit of M. Géborand's largesse for a week, in the hopes that he would not fail to do the same after the next service. Devoid of their distraction, therefore, M. Géborand was startled by Mademoiselle Baptistine's commentary. "Pardon me," he said, tipping his cap in acknowledgement. "Is all well?"

"Perfectly," said Mademoiselle Baptistine, "though I must admit some discontent."

"Discontent?" he echoed. "How so?"

At this oblivious reply, even this gentle soul became exasperated. "Tell me, Monsieur," she asked, "for what reason do you bestow your earnings on these poor sisters?"

M. Géborand paused, as if the notion had never occurred to him. "Why," he said, "because it is what our Lord would have me do."

"Quite so," she said. "Was it, indeed, the preaching of the vicar who travelled through our bishopric some years ago that stirred your mind to these acts of charity?"

"Your memory is very astute, Mademoiselle. Yes."

"Then," she said, "you know from where my discontent has issued."

"I confess," said M. Géborand, "that my mind is dull and much given to common things, rather than the sacred work with which you concern yourself. I do not follow precisely what you mean."

"How many years," inquired Mademoiselle Baptistine, "has His Grace my brother been Bishop of this town?"

"Several," said M. Géborand demurely, for fear of giving offence to Mademoiselle Baptistine's advanced age.

"And in that time, have you not been dutifully worshipping each week and holy day?"

"I have," he said, "notwithstanding those days on which my business bids me be far from my home."

"Well you have!" Mademoiselle Baptistine exclaimed. "And in all this time, has nothing my good brother has preached impressed upon you the duty of loving your fellow man? No-but let a young scholar come to town and speak of flames and hellfire, and you think to offer the smallest coin, as if that pittance might earn your salvation!"

"Does His Grace wish that I cease to give unto these women?" asked a continually stymied M. Géborand. "If he thinks it profanes the dignity of the cathedral to be distributing coin on its grounds, I shall certainly abide by his request."

Before she was moved to say something unchristian, Mademoiselle Baptistine restrained herself. "I apologize that I cannot grasp his meaning more fully, but my duty compels me to return home to assist him at once with his meditations. His eyesight has become poor with his advanced age."

* * *

When Monseigneur Bienvenu heard this account of his sister's afternoon, he gave one of his hearty and earnest laughs.

Mademoiselle Baptistine was unimpressed with his frivolity. "I have but a little learning, and it is not my place to compare my small faith with your greatness. Ah! But!"

"You must never be afraid to speak plainly," Monseigneur Bienvenu said. "For Christ himself drew little children near him, and how much wiser are you than they?"

Mademoiselle Baptistine trembled, nevertheless, as she answered him. "It is only-you are very wise to not trouble yourself with speaking overmuch of heaven and hell, for what are we mortals that we should comprehend them. Yet I wonder, could you but have spoken plainly, and impressed upon the merchants such as M. Géborand the folly of their trust in lucre-how much more might they have given to those in need? How much more quickly might they have turned from sin, and stored up treasures in heaven?"

Monseigneur Bienvenu paced over to the hearth, poking at the fire a bit before turning back to her. "It is also said that the physician is sent to heal the sick, not to those who are well. There is no shortage of those who seek my counsel in poverty or illness; I daresay you would scold me if I sacrificed any further sleep to attend to one such as Géborand in the dialect peculiar to his ears."

"And if he sends for you on his deathbed?" Mademoiselle Baptistine challenged. "Will you console him with the life of the world to come, knowing what a miser he is in the depths of his heart?"

"If he should ask," Monseigneur Bienvenu replied, "I might speak to him of a man who was accounted rich in the eyes of the world. He was fortunate in every way; he was of noble birth, had bountiful wealth, and a wife in whom he delighted."

"Is this another of your parables?"

"I suppose so. This man, now, in a series of misfortunes at once lost status, fortune, and his beloved. Great was his suffering there on earth, and yet not eternal, for he found himself in time restored to great status and respect among the people. Now, when he departs this life, shall our heavenly father grant him rest from his labors, or condemn him for having accepted earthly glory not once but twice?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," admitted Mademoiselle Baptistine, "whether the measure of his sin can compare to the divine grace. And I suspect if I cannot fathom it, neither could M. Géborand."

"You speak well," said Monseigneur Bienvenu. "And for my part, it would have wounded my pride a bit, were you to write me off as irredeemable."

"You? But-" Mademoiselle Baptistine broke off. "That is preposterous! You think too little of yourself, if you compare your mortal foibles to his."

"If I have proven kinder, perhaps it is because I have been blessed with a warmer soul. It must be little joy, to serve God out of fear rather than thanksgiving. So I will pray for his spirit, but that is no concern of yours."

"It does not offend you that he puts so little stock in your sermons?"

"Ah, well!" Monseigneur Bienvenu said. "I shall take it as a warning not to speak overlong. Of these signs, God never sends too many."

And if he was a bit briefer in his parlance in the months to come, the people of Digne paid it no mind, so rapt were they at the voice of their beloved bishop.


End file.
